


all our friends want us to fall in love

by midwestwind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Lovers to Friends, One Night Stands, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/midwestwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t do relationships,” she says as Killian takes a large bite out of his half of the grilled cheese. He raises an eyebrow at the non sequitur.</p><p>“Okay,” Killian says, dragging the word out, once his mouth is no longer full.</p><p>“I just don’t want you to get any ideas about what this,” she motions between them, “is. I’m not interested in anything more than what we’re doing now.”</p><p> </p><p>(emma swan meets killian jones at a wedding. you know where that leads.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all our friends want us to fall in love

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it is i, au garbage, back to darken your doors once again. this was a on-a-whim fic that sort of blossomed into much more than i intended. it's vaguely you're the worst inspired, in the way that, if you've seen you're the worst, you may understand why i say that. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this! as always nothing would exist without the best beta in all the land; bluestoplights!

It all starts when Emma’s best friend’s evil step-sister gets married.

 

Emma isn’t a wedding type of person. Even if she were this isn’t the kind of affair for celebrating the love two people share. Not that Regina and Robin _don’t_ love each other, just that Regina loves rubbing her happiness in everyone else’s faces even more.

 

“You know she only invited me because she can’t rub your happily married nose in it, right?” Emma asks Mary Margaret as they head towards David’s beat up pickup truck. Mary Margaret looks beautiful as ever in the deep purple dress Regina had picked for her bridesmaids. David’s waist coat and bowtie match the color and satin fabric.

 

“Oh, Emma, cut Regina some slack,” Mary Margaret sighs, ever the martyr. “She might not be the most, um, _agreeable_ person but she just wants to celebrate her love. Maybe she thinks of you two as friends.”

 

Emma wonders if Regina makes constant snide and condescending remarks about the state of all of her friends’ lives or if that’s just the type of bond they apparently share. Mary Margaret does her best with her troublesome relatives, though, so Emma keeps her mouth shut.

 

“What did you get them, anyway?” She asks as Mary Margaret squeezes into the middle of the bench seat, large white and gold wrapped box in her lap, and Emma slides in after her. She’s forgetting why she’d agreed to drive together rather than in her own car.

 

“A slow cooker.”

 

Emma pulls a face.

 

“Married life must be a riot,” she comments deadpan. Mary Margaret gives a big put upon sigh and David chuckles as he backs out of the driveway.

 

-/-

 

“Bride or groom?”

 

She’s on her third drink on top of the obligatory glass of champagne and Emma really doesn’t want to be here anymore. The accented voice in her ear startles her into alertness though. She turns to find a man leaning against the bar next to her.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Are you here on behalf of the bride or the groom?” He smirks. “Or merely just the open bar?”

 

Emma frowns at the quip but turns her body fully to face him. He’s tall and gorgeous and has an accent so she’s not going to count him out, if she’s honest. Nothing like a wedding to remind you how single you are. That and how dreadfully long it’s been.

 

“If I say I’m a party crasher are you gonna have me thrown out?” She asks, a little bit of a challenge in her voice.

 

The man grins at the response, leans in a little further.

 

“Definitely not.”

 

Emma hums and turns back to the bartender as he slides her whiskey in front of her. She gives him a grateful smile and returns her attentions to the man next to her as he orders a glass of rum. Emma waits until he’s gotten his own drink before continuing the conversation.

 

“What about you?” She asks. “Bride or groom?”

 

It’s casual but the question kind of matters. If she’s seriously considering a wedding hookup, Emma’s not about to bang one of Regina’s snobby friends. Even if it would annoy her to bits. Emma’s petty, she’s not _that_ petty.

 

“Groom,” he says, nodding towards the head table where Robin and Regina sit in the center of attention. “Old mates.”

 

Emma looks to the head table. It’s not a large wedding party, Mary Margaret and David sit at either end - farthest away from both the center of the table and each other which Emma doubts was an unintentional decision. One of Regina’s friends, a blonde who Emma has only ever heard referred to as Mal, sits between Mary Margaret and Regina and Robin’s burly friend John sits between him and David.

 

Robin is likable enough. A little sanctimonious at times but Emma doesn’t really have any problem with him besides his taste in women. He’s a good person in pretty much every sense of the word.

 

“So, you’re a charitable, heart of gold type, then?” Emma asks, turning her focus back to the conversation at hand.

 

“Hardly,” he says, a little self deprecatingly. His head ducks and Emma can tell there’s more to it than that but she’s not really into asking questions.

 

“Good,” she breathes and it’s enough to gain his focus again, make his eyes darken. She jerks her head towards the front table. “How attached are you to seeing how many times the crowd can make the happy couple kiss?”

 

He seems a little baffled for a moment.

 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to leave my friend’s wedding?”

 

Emma tilts her head. There’s a little mirth dancing on his face, even as he acts confused. She definitely isn’t misreading this situation.

 

“You didn’t come over here to hit on me with just the intention of getting a dance, did you?”

 

He cocks an eyebrow and, yeah, there’s definitely interest mixed in with that amusement. God, he’s not just going to make this easy is he?

 

“Are you propositioning me?” He teases. “I don’t even know your name.”

 

“Emma,” she tells him, sticking her hand out. He sets his glass down to shake it with his right hand.

 

“Killian Jones,” he offers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand lightly. Emma pulls it back and picks up her own drink.

 

“Well, _Killian Jones_ , if you’re not interested, I’ll just…,” she turns to head back into the crowd of merry makers but he catches her wrist lightly, pulls her back into his personal space.

 

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he says and Emma offers him a devilish grin in return. “Shall I get my car from the valet?”

 

Emma nods.

 

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

 

He downs his glass in one swig and Emma watches him leave. She finishes her own drink, shoots a semi-embarrassed look at the bartender who isn’t actually paying her any attention, and grabs her things from the table.

 

She sends a text to Mary Margaret letting her know she took off early, omitting the details and promising to call her tomorrow before going to meet Killian.

 

-/-

 

Killian lives in what can only be described as a bachelor pad - as much as Emma hates the term. It’s an open plan studio with an amazing view of the ocean line and various nautical themed decor strewn throughout.

 

Though, she doesn’t have much time to evaluate it before Killian has her pressed against the door with his lips on hers. Emma responds enthusiastically, her hands tangling in his hair. It had been styled in that perfectly messy way men have a knack for it. She intends to find out what truly messy looks like on him.

 

His right hand roams the curves of her body while the left remains a little hesitantly at her waist. She’s so caught up, it takes Emma a few minutes to realize it’s a prosthetic. Killian had kept it relatively well concealed - not that she was paying close enough attention when he kept looking at her like he was debating pulling the car over and having her on the side of the highway. She wonders what his plan had been for when she actually got him naked, though.

 

Casually, keeping his attentions on her collarbone with a guiding hand at the back of his neck, Emma places her hand on his left wrist and guides the false hand back towards her ass. Killian doesn’t need any more of an invitation. He lifts her up with both arms and carries her to the bed. She loosens his tie before he deposits her on the bed, standing up to pull it fully over his head and shrug off his jacket.

 

Emma sits up and reaches for him, untucking his shirt from his pants. Killian joins her on the bed and she moves to straddle him, unbuttoning his shirt while his hand and prosthetic roam her back. His fingers catch on the zipper of her dress when she reaches the third to last button. He drags it down tantalizingly slowly and when she glances up at his face she realizes he’s smirking.

 

She diverts her attentions from his shirt for a moment to grind down on him. Killian groans and Emma gives him a smirk of her own.

 

“You alright there, Sailor?”

 

Emma doesn’t know where the nickname comes from, blames the nautical apartment theme, but Killian pulls the zipper down the rest of the way quickly and kisses her a little roughly. Emma lets out a moan and Killian pushes the straps of her dress from her shoulders.

 

“I’m doing just marvelous, love,” he finally replies once he’s got her down to her bra, her dress bunched up at her waist. Emma gasps when he leans forward to nip at the top of her breast.

 

“Well, that’s a relief,” she says, voice a little shakier than she’d like. “But you’re still wearing too much.”

 

Killian nods in agreement as Emma pushes his dress shirt off his shoulders and moves her focus to his belt. His left arm keeps her steady by wrapping around her waist as his hand moves once more to her back and Emma feels the fabric of her bra tighten and then release as he opens the clasp.

 

“I could say the same for you,” he comments and Emma rolls her eyes as she tugs his belt from the loops of his slacks.

 

“Then stop saying and start _doing_.”

 

Killian flips them suddenly, using his arm around her waist as leverage, and presses her down into the bed. He noses down the cups of her bra before leaving behind any pretense and sitting up enough to remove the garment all together.

 

“I intend to,” he growls before scraping his teeth across her skin. Emma groans and bucks her hips up against his. Killian reaches between them and manages to discard her dress fully while Emma works on getting him out of his pants.

 

“Condom?” She pants when she’s down to her black lace underwear and Killian is grinding into her through his own underwear. His eyes meet hers at the reminder and he nods quickly.

 

“Right, yes,” he says, his breathing just as harsh as hers. He pulls himself off of her and Emma is immediately missing the friction he’d been creating between her thighs. He opens one of the drawers in his dresser and digs a bit before pulling one of the little foil packets out.

 

He holds it up triumphantly, grinning at her and Emma can’t help the breathless chuckle at his antics.

 

Rushing back to her, Killian tosses the condom on the bed and helps Emma shift a little further up on it into a more comfortable position. He’s dragging her underwear down her legs when he stops suddenly, looking up at her. Emma raises an eyebrow.

 

“You sure about this, love?” He asks gently and Emma lets out a harsh breath.

 

“You’re asking that _now_?” She groans, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Killian huffs as well.

 

“I’m just making sure you haven’t changed your mind,” he explains. “It’s alright if you have.”

 

Emma sits up, pushing her now tangled curls behind her shoulders and looks at him.

 

“Do _you_ still want to do this?” She barely has the question out before Killian is answering with an emphatic yes. “Then stop talking.”

 

There’s frustration in her voice but she gives him an encouraging smile and nearly cries out in surprise when Killian strokes his thumb over her clit. He hums in satisfaction at the response and Emma glares at him.

 

“I’ll be honest, darling,” he offers huskily, crowding over her again once they’re both naked and he’s torn the condom out of the packet, rolled it over himself until Emma had taken over with her own self-satisfied smirk. “This is much more fun when we’re allowed to talk.”

 

And in a completely unsurprising turn of events, Killian Jones is _quite_ vocal.

 

-/-

 

There’s something interesting about sex with a stranger. Emma isn’t worried about attachment or giving the wrong impression. When all they know is each other’s name there’s an understanding that it is what it is. Which is good because otherwise she wouldn’t have stayed for another round.

 

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Killian asks with something like amused interest in his eyes. Emma raises an eyebrow at him as she chews on the leftover pizza he’d offered her. In any other situation, she’d have refused but if she didn’t get something solid in her stomach to counteract the alcohol they’d be in trouble.

 

“What kind of question is that?” She asks finally.

 

“Humor me, love,” he says, the nickname rolling off his tongue. Emma would be lying if she said hearing it hadn’t worked for her a couple times when he was fucking her. “We’re hardly trying to impress each other here, are we?”

 

Emma shrugs, takes another bite of her pilfered pizza and considers it. It’s not like she’s planning on seeing him again. Or owes him the full truth.

 

“I stole some watches for my boyfriend when I was eighteen,” she tells him, forced casualness in her tone that she hopes he’ll buy. She can’t decide if she cares if he doesn’t. “Wound up in jail for a few months.”

 

Killain raises an eyebrow.

 

“And said boyfriend?” He asks. It’s not really the question she’d been expecting but it was hardly out of left field. At least it doesn’t feel like judgement.

 

“Bailed.” Killian goes speechless for a moment so Emma continues. Might as well go all in. “The really fucked up part? I was pregnant at the time.”

 

“Really?” he asks. It’s more surprise than pity so Emma nods, lifting the bottom of his dress shirt to reveal her pale stomach and the stretch marks along it. They’re easy to miss so she doesn’t expect Killian to have noticed them before but Emma knows exactly where they are, how they trail along her skin.

 

“Even got the scars to prove it.”

 

When she finishes her slice of pizza, Killian guides her back to the bed and drags his tongue over the scars before he eats her out.

 

-/-

 

“How’d you lose your hand?”

 

In any other context, Emma figures the question would be considered rude. Except what she'd told him was extremely personal so - tit for tat. Pun not intended.

 

Killian raises an eyebrow at her, amused. He stretches his left arm out across the bed, further away from her.

 

“Not a great story, I’m afraid,” he says, his voice taking on a tragic but subdued tone. Like it still hurts but he doesn't want her to know that. “Boating accident a few years back on a ship I wasn't supposed to be on.”

 

Emma tilts her head, waiting for him to elaborate.

 

“You're not the only thief here,” is all he offers.

 

She hooks her leg over his abdomen and lifts herself so she's straddling him. Killian’s eyes darken at the change in position but Emma is aiming for innocent - for now, at least.

 

“Doesn't stealing a boat make you a pirate?” She asks, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Killian’s chest swells underneath her and his expression turns devious.

 

“I quite like the way you think, Emma.”

 

Emma grins and shifts lower to grind against him, feels his body move to attention at the friction. It pulls a groan from Killian, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

 

Emma’s pulled out another condom and rolled it over him when she notices his left arm still stretched across the bed. She reaches for it and Killian frowns at the movement, watching in confusion as she trails her fingers along the strapping of the prosthetic.

 

“Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, nodding towards buckling keeping it in place.

 

“It's not a pretty sight, love,” he says quietly but it's not a no so Emma presses a little.

 

“Not that your ego needs the stroking, but I don't think there's a part of you that isn't pretty, sailor.” Killian grins at her, soft and easy, and Emma returns her attention to the prosthetic. “Would you be more comfortable with it on or off?”

 

“I suppose off, if you really don't mind,” he says finally and Emma gives him a look that tells him he's being obtuse before loosening the straps.

 

Killian sits up once she's put it aside and wraps his left arm around her back, shifting them both so he can slide inside of her. His arm stays tight around her as she rides him.

 

-/-

 

Emma doesn’t stay the night. Killian suggests she can, especially since the sun is already turning the edge of the horizon light purple but that’s not how Emma works. Killian walks her to the door, presses her back against it and kisses her once more. It’s a nice bookend to the way the night had started.

 

He doesn’t ask for her number and Emma is grateful to know the lines are clearly drawn.

 

Once she’s outside, she’s halfway through pulling up Mary Margaret’s contact number in her phone when she realizes she knows where she is.

 

“Hey,” she says when her friend answers. “I’m heading to Granny’s, do you want to meet me there?”

 

“Sure,” Mary Margaret responds, confusion clear in her voice. “But where did you run off to last night? We were a little worried.”

 

If they were worried even after Emma had text Mary Margaret, Emma doesn’t want to imagine what hell she’d be paying if she had forgotten to say goodbye at all.

 

“I’ll explain over pancakes,” Emma assures her. “Do you mind stopping by my place and grabbing a change of clothes? I didn’t make it home last night and this dress is getting uncomfortable.”

 

Mary Margaret doesn’t sound entirely pleased but agrees anyway. Emma knows she’s in for an earful regardless. She texts Ruby to make sure she's at the diner, just in case she needs backup. When she reaches the diner a few blocks over, Ruby spots her instantly. She finishes filling a customer’s mug with coffee before tugging her apron off and calling into the back that she’s going on break.

 

Emma smirks at her as she slides into the booth across from her with a mug of hot cocoa.

 

“Remind me again how you haven’t been fired yet,” Emma teases earning a wide, devious grin from Ruby.

 

“Pure nepotism, my friend,” she says and Emma laughs. “Besides, the clinic pays enough for me to live, I’m only still here so Granny doesn’t get short staffed.”

 

Emma pinches one of Ruby’s cheeks, having to practically lunge across the table to do it, and teases, “You’re such a good granddaughter.”

 

Ruby swats her hand away and makes a noise like a growl in the back of her throat. Emma grins innocently and sips her hot cocoa as Ruby glares her down. The bell chimes at the front of the diner and Emma rotates enough to see Mary Margaret enter, a tote bag in hand.

 

“Emma, Ruby, hey,” she greets, offering the bag to Emma. Emma slides out of the booth, taking the bag gratefully before dashing to the bathroom to change.

 

Mary Margaret had only grabbed the basics - a fresh pair of underwear, jeans, and white t-shirt too thin to keep her warm this close to the ocean. Luckily, her red leather jacket had been stuffed into the bottom of the bag as well.

 

When she comes back, Ruby and Mary Margaret are sharing one side of the booth with their heads bent towards each other conspiratorially. Emma is sure Mary Margaret is making her unexplained disappearance from the wedding sound much worse than it was.

 

“So,” Ruby drags out when Emma drops back into the booth. “How _was_ the wedding of the century?”

 

“Over the top,” Emma responds immediately just as Mary Margaret says, “Lovely.”

 

Ruby looks back and forth between them before chuckling and setting her gaze on Mary Margaret.

 

“Come on, MM, tell us how you really feel,” she edges, earning a heavy sigh from Mary Margaret. Her shoulders drop and she wraps her hands around her coffee mug.

 

“It was a nice wedding,” she says steadily. “But I am glad it’s over. Regina and Robin can go on their honeymoon and we can go back to seeing each other at holidays when her mother tries to play family woman. Having to listen to Regina and Mal’s every whim and complaint was… tiresome. I’m happy that she’s happy, though.”

 

Emma has to suppress an eyeroll. Ever since Regina’s mother had married Mary Margaret’s father, Regina has done nothing but make Mary Margaret miserable. Emma hasn’t know the women long enough to have been present for all of it but David had made her privy to the details. Mary Margaret may be allergic to speaking ill of family but David is protective and he doesn’t like people who hurt the people he loves.

 

“So, Emma,” Mary Margaret starts, diverting the attention away from herself. Emma hides a groan behind her mug, taking a long drink of her hot cocoa. “What happened to you last night?”

 

Ruby scoffs.

 

“Please, did you _see_ her?” Ruby barks, grinning devilishly at Emma. “Sex hair and last night’s dress. More like _who_ happened to her last night.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and gives her friend a tired look but shrugs. No use denying it, it’s not like she’s ashamed of the, frankly, insane number of orgasms she’s had in the last 12 hours.

 

“I met a guy at the wedding,” she admits. “You know how it goes.”

 

“What guy?” Mary Margaret asks.

 

“And you actually stayed the night?” Ruby prompts with a raised eyebrow. In all fairness, it probably is the most bizarre part of last night. Not that Emma actually _stayed the night_ , she just happened to be there long enough that she was still there when the sun started to rise. A few naps in between sessions does not a sleepover make.

 

“No, I didn’t stay the night, not really,” Emma answers first before turning her attention to the first question. “And his name was Killian, one of Robin’s friends I guess. It wasn’t like I was interested in his backstory.”

 

“What exactly defines ‘staying the night’ to you?” Ruby asks only to be overrun by Mary Margaret’s question of, “Wait, _Killian_?”

 

Emma groans. Clearly texting Ruby had been a mistake. She’d expected a lecture from Mary Margaret, not the Spanish Inquisition.

 

“There was just sex,” she explains to Ruby. “Very little sleeping and no breakfast in the morning. Therefore, not technically staying the night. And, yes, Killian. Why?”

 

Ruby leans back in the booth, trying to understand Emma’s logic but Mary Margaret chews at her lip, looking concerned.

 

“David’s mentioned him, Emma,” she explains. “He gets a bad vibe.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Emma rolls her eyes, leaning back in her own seat and crossing her arms. “Killian is harmless. Not that it even matters, I’m not gonna see him again. You know me, I don’t do relationships.”

 

Mary Margaret sighs. “Just be careful, alright?”

 

Emma gives her a look but nods regardless, lifting her mug back to her lips. They sit in silence for a few moments and Emma wonders if there’s actually another waitress on staff or if Ruby has screwed over everyone in the diner. Suddenly, the woman in question sits straight up.

 

“No, seriously, you need to explain this to me,” Ruby says, pointing at Emma. “You went to his house at night and stayed until the daytime. How is that _not_ staying the night?”

 

Emma groans and drops her head on the table.

 

-/-

 

Emma does think about it, though, which is where the real trouble of it all starts.

 

She’s sitting in her car, working to stay awake while she tails a skip. That’s one of the problems with her job - lots of time alone in her car to think. And the thing of it is - Ruby is right in a sense. Emma hadn’t stayed at Killian’s for as long as she did out of some sort of manifesting feelings. It had been completely physical - well, mostly - and that’s why she’d stayed.

 

Because _damn_ if it wasn’t the best sex she’s had in a long time.

 

It’s just that it’s been a while since Emma had the time to actually have a one night stand. There’s actually a fair amount of effort that goes into it - picking a bar, meeting someone who hopefully won’t get attached. Her scattered schedule of finding bail jumpers doesn’t leave a lot of nights for bar scouring and, honestly, it’s not how she loves to spend her rare night off.

 

So, meeting Killian at the wedding had been lucky and now Emma is considering making it more than a one night thing. Which is absolutely against basically every single one of her rules but, well, if she’s interested and he’s interested maybe they can cut out that whole middleman part.

 

Of course, thinking this is mostly a moot point because by proxy of not giving him her number, Emma hadn’t gotten Killian’s either. And normal society usually warns against returning to the home of your one night stand to request another night.

 

Her other option being asking Regina for his phone number. It was good sex but no sex is _that_ good.

 

Emma resigns herself to the whims of the universe and decides she’ll probably get over it after a few days. There are other ways to satisfy herself.

The universe, it seems, has other plans.

 

Actually, she should have seen this coming. She’d been able to walk from his apartment to Granny’s so it only makes sense that he would know of the place. Greasy spoons were great and there was no greasy spoon in the world as great as Granny’s - and Emma had looked.

 

She decides to pick up dinner after turning in a bail jumper.

 

One of the beauties of technology and the rise of the “swipe-left-or-right” dating model is that it makes finding scumbags _so easy_. Emma puts up a flashy, posed photo of herself and a profile that makes her seem easy to dupe and - bam. Entitled asshole central. Some men just don’t know when to keep it in their pants. Namely when they’re trying to hide out after skipping bail.

 

Emma swears they’re actually trying to make her job easier.

 

It takes a tight dress and a pair of heels to have this guy eating out of her palm and then she’s slapping him with a pair of cuffs and carting him off to the police station. David always raises an eyebrow at this choice of method when she drops her collar off but it’s more in amused exasperation than judgement.

 

She’s heading out of the station when she calls Granny’s to put in a takeout order. Ruby answers with her typical flair and has Emma’s usual order written down before Emma can even finish her explanation.

 

Emma walks through the door, bell chiming above her, to the immediate sound of loud whistling from behind the counter.

 

“Damn, _Miss Swan_ ,” Ruby laughs as Emma gives her an amused look. “Tell me you at least got the guy.”

 

“Come on, Ruby,” Emma smirks, dropping into a seat at the counter. “I _always_ get my guy.”

 

“I’ll say,” someone offers from a few stools over and Emma nearly falls off the stool, spinning around to see the owner. She, embarrassingly, goes a little slackjawed.

 

“God, Jones,” Ruby groans, but it’s more playful than annoyed. “Don’t hit on my friends.”

 

Killian’s eyes are positively twinkling and Emma has absolutely no idea how to react in this situation. He chuckles and shrugs at Ruby, “A bit late for that, I’m afraid. Emma and I are _quite_ acquainted already.”

 

The innuendo coupled with the downright salacious way he licks his lower lip snaps Emma out of her surprise. She shoots him a look and spins back around on the stool. It doesn’t stop him from picking up his mug and scooting down the two seat between them to sit next to her.

 

Ruby looks between them in confusion. “Wait, what?”

 

Emma resists the urge to leave right then. Even if the universe is gifting her with the ability to possibly get what she wants, it could have done it in a slightly less mortifying way. Killian seems completely unbothered by the situation they’ve found themselves in.

 

“I only mean we met at a wedding last weekend, didn’t we, love?”

 

Emma thinks if she glares just a little harder she might actually melt him. She can’t decide if that’d be a negative or a positive at this point. When she averts her eyes to Ruby she looks like puppy being presented with a new toy.

 

“Wait. You’re saying that Killian, _this Killian_ , is Wedding Killian?”

 

“Wedding Killian?” Killian repeats with something like glee. Emma ignores him.

 

“Ruby, you didn’t think maybe you should mention that you knew a Killian who lived around here?” She asks. Ruby shrugs, completely unconcerned with this information.

 

“This is hilarious, though,” she laughs. “Do you have any idea how many times the two of you have been in here within just minutes of each other? Fate is so weird.”

 

Ruby gives an amused wave of her hand and turns to head into the kitchen. Emma stares after her, dumbfounded. Killian is suddenly silent, staring down at his coffee, and Emma decides that she doesn’t really know how to broach the topic she’d be thinking about anyway. “Hey, the other night was great and I don’t really have time to meet people so do you want to occasionally fuck me with no strings attached” just doesn’t feel right.

 

Killian clears his throat.

 

“So, you got your man, did you, Swan?” He asks. “What does that mean?”

 

Emma smirks.

 

“Don’t be jealous, captain,” she teases, earning a raised eyebrow from Killian. “I’m a bailbondsperson.”

 

He sits back a little, like he’s surveying her. Emma fights the urge to squirm under his gaze. Instead, she tilts her head and raises an eyebrow waiting for his assessment to end. There’s a certain response she’s used to when people find out her job. Apparently, she doesn’t look the part.

 

“Is it rude of me to say that that’s incredibly sexy?” He asks finally and Emma actually chuckles in surprise.

 

“Come on, Killian,” she murmurs, leaning in just a bit too close and dropping her voice. “We both know how sexy you already find me.”

 

He grins, something dark and devious that makes Emma’s insides squirm pleasantly.

 

“You’re right, love,” he responds. “But now I know you’ve got access to handcuffs.”

 

There’s a response forming at the back of her mind, though his proximity and the look in his eyes is making her mind move slower, but Ruby comes back with a greasy bag of takeout and plops it down in front of Emma.

 

“It’s on the house,” she says, oblivious to what she’d interrupted, how Emma springs away from Killian. “Granny recognized the order and wouldn’t hear of payment.”

 

Emma nods, a little jerkily, and offers her friend a smile.

 

“Tell her I said thanks,” she says, standing from the stool and gathering the bag in her arms. “I’ll see you later, Ruby.”

 

Ruby nods, goes to say something and gets called from the other end of the bar. She offers Emma a tired look and a wave before heading away. Emma considers just leaving but stalls, glancing back at Killian. She shifts her weight between her feet before sighing.

 

“Look, I can either take this home and eat my grilled cheese by myself or we could take it back to your place and share it,” she offers, earning a surprised look from Killian. He flounders for a moment before putting on his usual smirk, a little weak at the edges.

 

“Are you propositioning me, Swan?” He asks again and Emma raises an eyebrow, not offering a response to the question this time. He gets it quickly enough. “I’ll pay my bill and meet you there.”

 

Emma nods once before heading outside to the parking lot. There’s pretty much no way this doesn’t end in trouble but Emma’s dealt with worse. She can just make sure Killian knows exactly what this is before they go any further. If he has any issue with her boundaries, she’ll leave.

 

Emma’s a big girl.

 

-/-

 

“I don’t do relationships,” she says as Killian takes a large bite out of his half of the grilled cheese. He raises an eyebrow at the non sequitur.

 

Emma had waited for him at his apartment with every intention of ditching her dinner to be eaten later, once she’d worked up more of an appetite. Killian had showed up and walked her upstairs but they’d only managed to make out for a few minutes before Emma’s stomach had given a loud growl of protest. Emma had tried to ignore it but Killian had insisted he not keep her from her dinner.

 

“Okay,” Killian says, dragging the word out, once his mouth is no longer full.

 

“I just don’t want you to get any ideas about what this,” she motions between them, “is. I’m not interested in anything more than what we’re doing now.”

 

“Eating grilled cheese and onion rings?” He asks and Emma gives him a look. Killian chuckles. “Listen, Swan, you really needn’t worry. There’s no confusion about what’s happening here on my side.”

 

Emma nods, sure of his sincerity in the matter. She pops an onion ring in her mouth and chews it slowly.

 

“Good,” she says finally. “I’m glad we’ve got that covered.”

 

Killian nods, setting his half of the sandwich back in the styrofoam container and looking her up and down. Emma’s stomach does that squirming thing again and she’s suddenly not hungry anymore. Killian’s eyes darken and she has to stop herself from shifting her thighs against one another.

 

“Then what do you say we work on getting you a little _less_ covered,” he suggests, voice low and rough. It’s almost enough to make Emma ignore the awful come one. Almost.

 

“Really?” She asks, raising an eyebrow but putting her sandwich down nonetheless. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

 

“Oh, believe me, Emma Swan,” Killian chuckles and heat shoots through her stomach. “You’ve yet to see the best I have.”

 

Emma hums in response, standing from the chair to reach behind her. Without preamble, she slides the zipper of her dress down and lets it pool around her feet. Killian’s eyes travel her body, dark and dazed when they make it back to hers.

 

“Care to prove it?” She smirks.

 

Killian takes the challenge to heart.

 

-/-

 

Emma very deliberately does not stay until the morning. She doesn’t nap in his bed or eat his food, she’s out the door by 2 AM.

 

Killian is laying in bed, sheet sort of covering him, looking positively sinful as she locates her dress by the kitchen table and zips herself back into it. She’s got one shoe on when suddenly Killian hovering around her, a pair of cotton pants hanging loose on his hips.

 

“Swan, I was thinking-”

 

“That’s dangerous,” Emma interrupts with a grin, earning a dry look from him.

 

“I was _thinking_ perhaps you should have my number,” he presses on, ignoring her jab. “In case you wish to do this again.”

 

Emma stalls for a moment before pulling her other shoe on with deliberate casualness and standing to face him. She fiddles with her little clutch with her phone inside of it.

 

“I don’t know, Killian,” she says and something flickers in his eyes. “I just shattered one of my own rules by coming over again tonight. I don’t want there to be any confusion.”

 

“Because you don’t do relationships?” Killian asks and she nods in the affirmative. “Truthfully, love, I don’t much care for them myself anymore.”

 

She almost presses and then she remembers. No backstory. So, instead, Emma nods and pulls her phone out of her purse. Killian inputs his contact and hands it back to her.

 

“I’ll text you,” she says before she slips out the door.

 

-/-

 

“Wait, you went home with him again?” Ruby asks, a little too loudly for the small Blanchard-Nolan apartment. Emma shushes her and pulls her further away from the congregating group of their friends.

 

“Yes,” Emma hisses. “But I’d prefer if Mary Margaret and David didn’t know that, okay?”

 

Ruby raises an eyebrow.

 

“You’re an adult, Emma, I really don’t think you need to be hiding who you’re sleeping with from your friends,” she comments.

 

“I know,” Emma groans. “But you saw how Mary Margaret got at breakfast when she realized who Killian was. I don’t know what David knows about him that I don’t and I don’t really care. It’s just sex but you know how those two can be.”

 

“True love,” Ruby sighs and Emma nods.

 

Mary Margaret and David were high school sweethearts who went to separate colleges and somehow made that work. They’d stayed together for the four years while Mary Margaret majored in childhood education and David worked towards a criminal science major. Emma hadn’t known them back then but she knew the story well enough. Their long term relationship was cute but sometimes it made them a bit blind to the troubles of the perpetually single like herself.

 

Particularly, to the idea that she was such by choice.

 

“I don’t know,” Ruby shrugs. “He’s been coming to Granny’s a few times a week for months and I’ve never gotten a weird vibe about him. And I’m excellent with people.”

 

“Well, whatever it is just keep mine and Killian’s, uh,” Emma falters at the look Ruby shoots her, “whatever under your hat, okay?”

 

Ruby gives a shrug like she couldn’t really care either way but Emma _knows_ her. With something as juicy as Emma’s sex life, it must be eating her up inside not to spill it to everyone. Emma will be lucky if they make it through their weekly dinner unscathed.

 

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Mary Margaret calls across the loft. She’s placing a steaming dish on the table and Emma’s stomach grumbles at the thought.

 

“I was just asking Ruby how the clinic is doing,” Emma covers, drifting towards the smell of home cooking.

 

“Well, talk about it at the table,” Mary Margaret commands. “Dinner is ready.”

 

Ruby gives Emma one more teasing look before brushing past her to grab Belle’s hand and pull her to the table. Once they’re all seated and their plates are overflowing, Mary Margaret picks the conversation back up.

 

“So, how is the clinic doing, Ruby?” She asks.

 

“Really well, actually, business is steady,” Ruby explains. “Marian is even talking about bringing more people on board. She’s interviewing for other vets.”

 

A few years back Ruby met Marian, a veterinarian working as an assistant for an asshole. Marian had described him as the kind of guy who wasn’t cut out for a medical degree and hated his profession. Eventually, Ruby had suggested that, between the two of them, they had enough saved up to start their own animal clinic. Marian worked as the main vet and Ruby worked up front with the animals and their owners.

 

“That’s great, Ruby,” David enthuses. “We’re so proud of you.”

 

Emma notices Belle squeeze Ruby’s hand on the table, practically glowing with pride for her girlfriend.

 

“Ruby’s done an amazing job with the clinic,” Belle comments. “Not to disparage Marian’s input but Ruby spent many a night obsessing over every detail. I, of course, knew it would go wonderfully.”

 

Ruby rolls her eyes at the praise and Emma can tell she’s searching for a way to get the spotlight off of herself. She sees the moment it happens.

 

“So, I met Killian Jones,” Ruby says, cringing in Emma’s direction as soon as the words come out. “He’s one of Robin’s friends, isn’t he? Emma mentioned meeting him at the wedding.”

 

Mary Margaret’s eyes go wide but David nods, a little stiffly.

 

“How did that happen?” He asks and Emma keeps her focus trained on pushing her food around her plate.

 

“I, uh, I’ve actually know him for a few months sort of,” Ruby continues. Emma recognizes she’s trying to spin it in a way that doesn’t involve Emma at all. “He’s been coming to Granny’s pretty regularly. I was talking to him the other day and I just thought, you know, Killian is a pretty uncommon name. So, I asked if he knew Robin and Regina. Small world, huh?”

 

 _Micro-fucking-scopic_ , Emma thinks.

 

“Well, just keep your distance, alright?” David says casually, filling his for with potatoes. “That guy is bad news.”

 

Ruby meets Emma’s eyes across the table and frowns.

 

-/-

 

The problem with Emma’s innate curiosity is that she’s _wants_ to know, she just doesn’t want to ask. Because Killian is, well, he’s a lot of things. Starting with gorgeous, taking a pit stop at sarcastic, and ending at surprisingly sweet. It shouldn’t matter that David thinks he’s bad news, really, it’s not like she has a good track record with men. She’s also not _dating_ Killian. They’re just maybe going to occasionally get together to fill some biological needs.

 

Who cares if he’s bad news?

 

Emma doesn’t even necessarily care if he _is_ , she just wants to know why David thinks he is. She could just ask David of course but then there’s the question of why she’s asking and that’s a road Emma doesn’t want to go down. Or she could bring it up with Killian. But she thinks of his stormy eyes and the way he can go from cocky to self-depreciating in the blink of an eye. She thinks of how he doesn’t care for relationships “anymore”.

 

That’s an even less appealing option. That’s touching on more background than they’d divulged that first night when they assumed they’d never see each other again. Emma isn’t interested in that because with background comes strings. Which is exactly what Emma is trying to avoid.

 

She wishes she could get David’s casual assessment of “bad news” out of her mind but she can’t. It’s sticking in her brain like a Rick Astley song. So, Emma goes with a third option.

 

“You have to ask him.”

 

Ruby looks at her like she’s grown a second head which is totally unfair considering Ruby had caused this in the first place.

 

“What? _Me_?” She asks. “Why do I have to ask him?”

 

She stands from her desk to return a stack of patient files to one of the filing cabinets on the other side of the room. Emma trails after her.

 

“Because,” she sighs. “You’re the one who brought him up at dinner. Besides, if I ask, David is gonna ask why I want to know.”

 

Ruby turns, leans back against the cabinet, and folds her arms across her chest. She gives Emma an annoyed look.

 

“And what am I supposed to tell him when he asks why I want to know?” She asks.

 

“Curiosity,” Emma suggests. “Intrigue. You like to know who you’re serving pie to.”

 

“He doesn’t order pie,” Ruby corrects dryly and Emma sighs.

 

“Ruby, _please_ , I like to know who I’m getting into bed with - literally in this case. Can you please just ask David?”

 

Ruby groans and pushes off of the cabinet to cross the room again. She plops down in her desk chair and stares at Emma grumpily. Emma gives her a winning smile.

 

“Sometimes you’re a pain in the ass of a friend, Emma Swan,” Ruby says finally and Emma’s grin widens when she realizes she’s won. She drops down in the chair on the other side of Ruby’s desk.

 

“I know but it’s weirdly part of the appeal, isn’t it?”

 

-/-

 

Emma spends three days chasing a jumper through Massachusetts which means she doesn’t end up having the time to worry much more about David’s impression of Killian. It should maybe make her feel better knowing Ruby is on it but she’d still left the clinic feeling just as bothered as before Ruby had agreed to ask.

 

David corners her on her way out of the police station, hands on his hips and looking exactly like she’d expect from a police chief. Emma gives him a tired smile which he responds to with a concerned frown.

 

“You look like hell,” he comments.

 

“Thanks,” Emma groans. “I haven’t slept much in the last few days. Occupational hazard.”

 

“You know,” David starts leadingly, “cops don’t get much better schedules but at least they get vacation days.”

 

Emma gives him a look and he chuckles. It’s a repeated conversation they have every once in a while. She used to hear it a lot more, back when they first met, but David has since backed off. Usually, he only brings it up in jest.

 

“Worth a shot,” he shrugs. “So, why did you have Ruby ask me about Killian Jones?”

 

Emma startles at the question. She straightens out her posture and crosses her arms over her chest.

 

“What are you talking about?” She asks, playing dumb. David raises an eyebrow at her but it’s more amused than chastising.

 

“Come on, Emma, it’s me,” he says. “Ruby wouldn’t seek me out just to ask about some random customer. I remembered she mentioned you meeting him at the wedding, though.” David points his index finger at his temple. “Ex-Detective, remember?”

 

Emma sighs, not up for holding up the charade and shrugs her shoulders.

 

“I just didn’t get any particularly bad vibes from him and I was wondering why you did,” she explains.

 

“Just my gut feeling,” David explains with a shrug. “His attitude and Robin’s allusions to some sort of checkered past.”

 

Emma nods with a frown but David grins all of a sudden.

 

“Besides, you know me,” he says, much more upbeat. “I don’t trust anyone that handsome.”

 

Emma lets out a surprised laugh and shoves David’s shoulder gently. She shakes her head and sidesteps him to continue her exit from the precinct.

 

“I’ll see you later, David,” she tells him as she passes him.

 

“Hey, Emma,” he calls, stopping her just at the door. “If you’re sleeping with Killian Jones, just be careful.”

 

Emma stares at him a little dumbfounded for a minute but David gives her a conspiratorial eyebrow wiggle and it spurs her back into motion. She shakes her head and pushes out of the police station.

 

If it’s only a sarcastic attitude and a secret past that makes David wary of Killian, Emma can handle that. She’s sure people same the same of her, anyway. Foster kids aren’t the most well revered people in her experience, not to mention her jail time, Emma deals with her own fair share of assumptions. David and Mary Margaret had looked past all the giant red flags in her past to take her in. What she’s doing with Killian may not be the same type of selfless act but, well, Emma thinks it could be considered sending it forward anyway.

 

She’s halfway home when she pulls her phone out at a stoplight and texts Killian.

 

-/-

 

“I must say, I was beginning to think I’d given you my phone number in vain,” he says in lieu of greeting when he opens the door to his apartment at her knock. He leans against the doorframe, hooking one of his ankles around the other.

 

“Eager to hear from me, Killian?” Emma asks with a smirk.

 

“Well, you leave quite the impression, love.”

 

He straightens, pushing the door open wider and waving her inside with a sweeping gesture. Emma rolls her eyes fondly at his theatrics and steps past him into the apartment. There’s something cooking on the stove and she can smell it as soon as she enters the space.

 

“You were making dinner,” she comments lamely. “You could have told me now wasn’t a good time.”

 

Killian shakes his head and guides her towards the kitchen area with a hand on her lower back.

 

“Nonsense, Swan,” he insists. “There’s plenty for both of us.”

 

Emma stalls causing Killian’s hand to slide from her back as he continues forwards a few steps without her. He turns to her with a confused look.

 

“Killian,” she says warningly, earning an eyeroll from Killian when he realizes why she’s frozen up.

 

“Relax, Emma,” he smirks. “It’s not a date, it’s a meal. You look dead on your feet and if you’ve any hope of having the necessary energy for our activities, you’ll need to eat.”

 

Emma still watches him a little warily as he turns and heads for the stove, clicking off the burners and removing the pan from the heat. Finally, Emma takes a seat at the kitchen table, watching him transfer pieces of chicken to a plate for cooling.

 

“I didn’t take you for a Master Chef,” she comments earning a grin from Killian.

 

“I know my way around the kitchen.”

 

“Honestly, I mostly just survive on boxed pasta and takeout,” Emma admits and Killian stops what he’s doing entirely to face her. He looks absolutely appalled at the admission and Emma laughs. “What?”

 

“Good heavens, Swan, you’re an _adult_ ,” he says, moving two pieces of chicken onto a plate with some sort of potato side dish. “Do you have any idea how unhealthy that is?”

 

Emma shrugs, “I’ve resigned myself to dying young.”

 

She bites her cheek to keep from smiling as she waits for his reaction. He shakes his head, looking heavily disappointed in her life choices, but places a plate in front of her. It smells amazing and Emma’s stomach grumbles at the sight of it.

 

“Well, then, I’m definitely glad you came over,” he says, dramatically heaving a great sigh like her health is his personal burden. “I can make sure you get some real food in your stomach.”

 

Emma cuts off a piece of the chicken and takes a moment to savor it.

 

“I’ll be sure to let Granny know what you really think of her cooking,” she says finally.

 

He gives her a dark look at the threat and Emma laughs before returning her attention to her food. Three days with the minimal amount of sleep necessary catch up to Emma and she ends up passing out on his bed. One minute she’s allowing herself the luxury of basking in post-orgasm bliss and then next she’s being startled awake by the sound of Killian’s alarm.

 

It takes her a minute to realize where she is but she catches sight of Killian tugging on his sweatpants and heading towards the bathroom.

 

“What time is it?” She calls out, the words slurred with sleep but it’s enough to make Killian halt.

 

“Early, love,” he offers. “Go back to sleep.”

 

He disappears into the bathroom and Emma hears the sound of water running. She tries to resist the pull of sleep, urging her back out of consciousness, but the warmth of Killian’s bed proves too much for her and Emma drifts off again.

 

The next time she wakes up, Killian is dressed in a pair of tight, dark jeans and a dark blue sweater. Emma can see him moving around the kitchen from her spot on the bed and watches him fill the coffee pot with water and pour it into the coffee maker. Emma stretches her arms above her, a delicious ache rolling through her, and notices the sun hasn’t even started to peek over the ocean.

 

“God,” she groans, startling Killian. “What time is it?”

 

Killian chuckles and the coffee maker gives a gurgle before beginning a steady trickle of coffee. He crosses the room to take a seat on the bed next to her, leaning down to kiss her once, slow and gentle. It would send off alarm bells in her mind if she were more awake. Instead, she kisses him back, offering a soft smile when he pulls away.

 

“Good morning, Swan,” he murmurs, earning a hum in response. “It’s quite early, I’m afraid, but I have to leave for work in a few minutes.”

 

Emma frowns, sits up enough to catch sight of the clock next to his bed. It reads 4:13 AM and Emma gives Killian a confused look.

 

“What the hell do you do?” She grumbles, flopping back against the pillows. Killian laughs.

 

“I work down at the docks,” He explains. “No such thing as an early morning for a sailor.”

 

Emma raises an eyebrow.

 

“You let me come over when you had to be up so early?” She asks. “You could have said no, you know.”

 

Killian ducks his head to scratch behind his ear before pushing off the bed, back towards the kitchen area.

 

“I wanted to see you,” he admits, pushing on before that can set in, “Would you like some coffee?”

 

Emma stares at the back of his head for a minute before responding to him with a yes. She decides not to push his decision to let her come over the night before. She also resolves not to tell Ruby about this.

 

-/-

 

“So, are you still seeing Killian?”

 

Emma nearly drops her fork in surprise at the question. It’s been almost a little over two months since the wedding and Emma goes over Killian’s at least once a week. Sometimes he feeds her first, still insistent on bettering her diet, and sometimes there are other, more pressing matters than food.

 

When she looks up, everyone at the table is looking at her except for Mary Margaret who is innocently focused on her food. Emma clears her throat, considers her next words carefully.

 

“I was never _seeing_ Killian,” Emma corrects.

 

Mary Margaret looks up from her food then, raising an eyebrow at Emma.

 

“What would you call it then?”

 

Emma flounders. Nothing, she wants to say, she’d call it _nothing_. Because in much the same vein that Emma doesn’t do relationships, she also doesn’t like to label her non-relationships. She knows her friends well enough to know that answer would not satisfy them.

 

“I’d call it occasionally getting together for sex,” she offers a bit bluntly instead. Mary Margaret doesn’t even bat an eye.

 

“Alright, are you still doing that then?” She asks and Emma sighs wishing she could save herself from this line of questioning. Or, at the very least, that Mary Margaret hadn’t chosen their weekly dinner as the time to broach the topic.

 

“Sometimes,” Emma shrugs. It’s kind of a lie. She’d been at his apartment on Saturday and they had already talked about her coming over this Friday. Even she knows that’s not exactly typical to a non-relationship, friends with benefits type situation.

 

“Maybe you should invite him to dinner next week,” Mary Margaret suggests.

 

“Why?” Emma asks, a little defensive at the way this whole conversation has caught her off guard. David has put his fork down and is now staring at his wife like she’s grown a second head as well.

 

“Yeah, _why_?” He repeats and Emma turns her attention momentarily to frown at him. He doesn’t even notice her look.

 

“ _Because_ ,” Mary Margaret starts a little forcefully, shooting David a look, “if you two are, well, whatever you are-”

 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Emma insists.

 

“ _Friends_ ,” Mary Margaret continues, brushing past the outburst, “it might be nice for the rest of us to get to know him a little. It’s why we started these dinners, isn’t it? To get together, catch up on our lives, and make friends?”

 

Emma groans. Mary Margaret isn’t wrong. The dinners had existed before Emma had even met them and once they’d started inviting her to them it became a catalyst for her and Ruby’s friendship. Eventually, Ruby had started inviting Belle after they’d met and it had encouraged both of them to admit their feelings for each other.

 

Emma just hopes Mary Margaret isn’t suggesting this in the hopes of a repeat performance. She and Killian don’t need to admit any feelings because there are none to admit.

 

“I don’t want there to be any confusion about what’s going on between me and Killian,” Emma starts. “We’re just sleeping together. I don’t even know that we could be classified as friends and if I start introducing him to my friends he may think I want more than I do.”

 

Mary Margaret shrugs.

 

“I mean, he does actually _know_ most of us already,” she comments. “Ruby, didn’t you say he’s a regular at the diner?”

 

“Yeah,” Ruby says slowly, looking warily between her two friends. Emma notices that she and Belle had been smartly staying away from the conversation. “I guess the only one of us he hasn’t actually met is Belle.”

 

Emma shoots Ruby a dark look. Traitor.

 

“See, Emma?” Mary Margaret smiles innocently. “I’m just saying you should think about inviting him is all.”

 

Emma tries to come up with a rebuttal, because she’s sure there are a million reasons why having the guy she’s screwing sharing a table with her best friends is a bad idea but she’s caught off guard and can’t come up with them at the moment. Instead, she lets out a huff and looks back down at her food.

 

“Fine,” she pouts. “I’ll think about it.”

 

-/-

 

Emma does not think about it. Because thinking about it would be offering credence to the idea and it’s a ridiculous idea. Therefore, no thinking.

 

She does think about Mary Margaret’s suggestion that Emma and Killian are friends, though. Which is honestly the least far reaching part of that conversation. They’ve been hanging out a few times a week over the last two months and it’s not always just sex. It’s not like she shows up at his door and they immediately start stripping.

 

Well, sometimes they do.

 

But a lot of the times Killian cooks dinner or makes Emma sit down and finish watching whatever show or movie he’d been watching before she showed up. Which has become a bad habit of hers. She’d mostly texted a tentative “are you busy” text during the first few weeks. At some point, Killian had told her she didn’t have to send him a booty text if she wanted to come over. Lately, she’d been taking advantage of that offer.

 

It happens when she shows up on Friday. After finding out Killian works such early hours, Emma doesn’t come over during the week. She doesn’t usually spend the night anyway but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Killian, knows he wouldn’t tell her if she had. They’d have tentative plans for her to come over but no discussed time.

 

Emma knocks at his apartment door and Killian pulls her inside and immediately down onto the couch. She pulls her boots off and tosses them towards the wall. Killian, ever the neat freak, gives her a look but hits play on the remote. Emma pulls her feet up underneath her and gets comfortable, not paying much attention to the TV.

 

“Deadliest Catch?” She asks, once she realizes. “ _Really_?”

 

“Don’t mock, Swan,” Killian warns, eyes never moving from the screen. “The sea is a harsh mistress.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes but pats him gently on the knee, standing up from the couch again. If Killian is going to force his Discovery Channel obsession on her, Emma is going to drink his expensive rum. She pulls two tumblers from a cabinet and pours them each a glass.

 

“Okay, so what exactly _is_ the deadliest catch?” She asks once she’s sat back down and handed Killian his glass.

 

“King Crab,” Killian smirks. “But as I said, the sea is perilous. There’s constant risk to life and limb aboard these ships.”

 

Emma stews on that, sips from her glass. Killian’s left arm is stretched across the back of the couch behind her and Emma glances over at his prosthetic, thinks of the first time they’d slept together.

 

“So, uh,” she begins, turning her attention back to the screen and clearing her throat. “Do you do anything that dangerous? I mean, at your job?”

 

Killian smirks at her again but it’s something a little soft this time, like he knows exactly why she’s asking. Emma isn’t ashamed to admit that she’d be concerned for his safety if he said yes.

 

“Not really, love,” he tells her. “I’m afraid I don’t get out on the ocean much these days. Only short trips on my own ship.”

 

Emma nods. They’ve discussed his boat before a few times, just in passing when Killian mentions it or has a story for her. She glances around the apartment, the nautical theme strewn about in bits and pieces.

 

“So, which came first?” She asks. “The nautical aesthetic or the love of boats?”

 

“Is this a riddle? The chicken or the egg?” Killian replies, amused. Emma gives him a dry look and he chuckles shrugging. “My brother taught me to sail when I was a lad. So, the boats, I suppose.”

 

He turns back to the TV but Emma stares at him for a long minute.

 

“You have a brother?” She asks suddenly and the break in the silence clearly startles Killian. He turns to her with raised eyebrows.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, scratching behind his ear. “Had.”

 

She almost presses, thinks better of it and nestles back into the couch a little more. She’s inches from Killian but she scoots a little closer into his side.

 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

 

“No need to be sorry, Swan,” he responds, just as softly.

 

Emma cradles her glass in her hands and lets him continue his show in silence. Killian insists at some point that there’s only supposed to be fifteen minutes left but Emma assures him it’s fine. She’s actually not in a rush tonight. An alarm bell rings somewhere in the back of her head but Emma just nestles further into Killian’s side.

 

When the show ends, Killian has to nudge her gently to wake her up from her dozing.

 

“That wasn’t cheap rum, Swan, and I’d prefer it be in your stomach than on my couch.” She feels him take the glass gently from her hands and hears the clink of it against the coffee table. Emma opens her eyes to see him watching her with amusement.

 

“Sorry,” she sighs and Killian reaches over to brush her hair away from her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

 

“It’s alright, darling,” he chuckles. “But if you’re tired you’re welcome to sleep in my bed.”

 

Emma chuckles sleepily and Killian raises an eyebrow at her mirth.

 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she grins, “if you meant that as a come on or if you didn’t.”

 

Killian rolls his eyes and settles back against the couch, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

 

“Come now, Swan, don’t you know I’m a gentleman?”

 

Emma hums in response and shifts against him, still fighting the groggy after effects of the short nap. Killian’s head dips backwards against the couch but he doesn’t seem in a big rush to move either. She watches his eyelids flutter when he closes them for a minute.

 

“Killian,” she starts quietly, continuing when she knows she has his attention. “Are we friends?”

 

He goes quiet for a moment but picks his head back up to look at her. Eventually, he shrugs.

 

“I hope so,” he admits.

 

Emma bites her lip, contemplating his response before deciding it’s good enough. Plenty of people have sex with their friends. She could probably make an entire Netflix list out of the movies about it. She sits up then, throwing her leg over his legs and lifting herself onto his lap.

 

“Okay,” Emma nods. “Then we’re friends.”

 

She grips the open collar of his dark flannel and tugs his lips up to hers.

 

-/-

 

“So, you know what you’re doing right?” Ruby asks, when Emma refuses another drink from a stranger. The guy seems to take it relatively well, better than the last one anyway, and Emma’s sure he’ll be fine.

 

“Um, trying not to get roofied?” Emma asks, trying to wave the bartender down for another whiskey. Ruby sloshes her martini around it’s glass and rolls her eyes.

 

“I mean with Killian,” Ruby persists and Emma groans.

 

“One conversation that doesn’t end in Killian,” she sighs. “Is that so much to ask?”

 

Ruby scoffs and gives Emma an offended look, placing her hand over her heart for added effect.

 

“Excuse me, I am not some romcom sidekick, okay? We have _plenty_ of conversations not involving Killian. We were _just_ talking about the clinic,” Ruby points out and Emma sighs, giving up on the bartender and turning to face Ruby fully.

 

“Okay, fine, enlighten me,” she says. “What am I doing?”

 

“Being in a relationship without having to admit to being in a relationship,” Ruby explains, tilting her head at Emma. “And keeping Killian away from your friends so you don’t have to examine just _how_ in a relationship you are.”

 

Emma stares at her, agape at the ridiculous explanation.

 

“That is _not_ what I’m doing,” she frowns. “I can’t be pretending not to be in a relationship if I’m really not in a relationship, okay?”

 

Ruby’s shoulders sag and she looks dramatically up towards the heavens like they might give her guidance. Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to trying to flag down the bartender.

 

“Emma,” Ruby calls, once she’s finished her theatrics. “You were with him last night, right? What did you guys do?”

 

Emma hesitates before turning back to her friend.

 

“We had sex,” she says easily, reaching forward and fiddling with her empty glass. Maybe if she makes it’s emptiness clear the bartender will finally give a fuck.

 

“What else did you do?”

 

“What, do you want positions?” Emma bites, a little defensively. Ruby gives her a look. Emma lets out a heavy sigh and continues reluctantly, “We watched a movie and had takeout.”

 

“Do you know who orders takeout and watches movies?” She rushes on before Emma can offer the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. “Couples. Couples have takeout and watch movies and then have sex. Babe, you’re in a relationship.”

 

Emma is already shaking her head in rebuttal.

 

“No, we have takeout and watch movies because we’re _friends_ ,” she insists. “Friends who also have sex. That’s all it is, there are no feelings involved. We barely even know anything about each other.”

 

Ruby shakes her head but shrugs in acquisition, pulling the toothpick out of her martini and biting into the oliver on the other end of it.

 

“Whatever you say, Emma.”

 

Emma sighs but let’s that be the end of it. If Ruby is going to appease her, even sarcastically, Emma’s not going to stop her. The bartender turns and Emma throws her hand out, a little obnoxiously, and he finally heads towards them.

 

They’re a little buzzed when they leave and decide to share a cab. It drops Ruby off at her and Belle’s apartment first but she hesitates before closing the door.

 

“Look, Emma, if you want to stay in denial about this thing with Killian that’s fine,” Ruby sighs and Emma stares at her in surprise. “But Killian won’t be able to forever.”

 

“What do you mean?” Emma asks quietly, fearing the answer.

 

“I’ve seen the way he talks about you, okay? He’s in love with you. Whether he knows yet or not is up for debate but eventually he’ll realize and, whether you like it or not, things are gonna change.”

 

With that, Ruby closes the cab door and hands the driver her fare before he drives off. Emma feels frozen in the cold leather seat.

 

-/-

 

Killian did the whole “maybe you could come over on Thursday” thing as she was leaving last time. They don’t necessarily make plans in advance, Killian just drops what days work best for him and Emma usually shows up on those days. Thursday rolls around, though, and Emma can’t bring herself to leave her apartment.

 

Fucking Ruby. There are so many reasons why she and Killian aren’t in a relationship. First, he’s never been to her apartment - people in relationships usually know where the other lives. Second, it’s been a while but Emma is pretty sure relationships are supposed to be more than showing up at the other person’s house when you’re horny or lonely or bored. And, probably most crucially, feelings are necessary to a relationship.

 

And Ruby can preach all she wants but Killian is _not_ in love with Emma.

 

Despite all this, Emma doesn’t go to Killian’s on Thursday. When he texts asking if he should eat without her, Emma responds with a lie about tailing a bail jumper. Killian wishes her good luck.

 

The thing about it is this; Emma doesn’t have a great track record with relationships. There was the ex-boyfriend who left her in jail, the closeted sort-of-girlfriend who decided not to tell Emma she was actually married, the almost-fiance running the insurance scam. She’s better off on her own, it’s always been that way. And, sure, Mary Margaret and David had shown up and made her feel like a part of a family for the first time in her life. That was different, though.

 

Emma would like to think she knows Killian well enough. She wants to believe he’s a good guy who isn’t going to dick her over when he gets bored with her. That would be blind faith, though, and Emma doesn’t operate on blind faith.

 

Saying that she and Killian don’t know anything about each other was a bit of an exaggeration. They know the surface details. Killian knows that Emma is a bailbondsperson, in turn Emma knows he’s a harbor master. Emma knows that Killian was raised more by his brother than by his parents, he knows she was a foster kid. Emma knows who Killian is when he’s around her. He’s sarcastic and witty, sexy and gentle. Sometimes he’s a little brooding and self-depreciating. Usually, he’s just sweet.

 

Emma likes to think she’s just herself in front of him. Sometimes her walls fall and she’s a little softer than most people get to see. She hasn’t decided yet if that’s a good or bad thing. It’s a pretty thought that everyone is who they say they are, but it isn’t reality.

 

Life isn’t fairytales and happy endings. Emma learned that the hard way a long time ago.

 

Still, Emma pours herself a glass of wine and pulls up Deadliest Catch on Hulu. She pulls up Killian’s contact, considers briefly calling him and telling the truth - that she’s in her own head and freaking out. She wants reassurance that Ruby is reading into it, that he doesn’t love her and that nothing has to change. She’s afraid he wouldn’t tell her what she wants to hear. Eventually, she falls asleep on her couch.

 

-/-

 

Emma has, on more than one occasion, considered trading in her trusty bug for something a little less conspicuous. Bright yellow isn’t the best car for tailing someone. She can’t bring herself to do it, though, because deep inside she’s a sentimental sort and this car has seen her through too much. That said, tonight is one of those times when she really thinks maybe she’ll trade it in for a nice, dime-a-dozen, black sedan.

 

It’s been two weeks since she’d last spoken to Killian and Emma is currently trying not to freeze in her car. Her skip had disappeared into an apartment complex nearly fifteen minutes ago and it’s the kind of high security place she can’t just sneak into. So, Emma has prepared herself to be stuck until morning.

 

She nearly screams when someone knocks on her window.

 

“Jesus Christ, Killian,” she growls as she leans over and pushes the passenger door open for him to slide inside. He’s got a shit eating grin on his face that erases any doubt that scaring her had been an accident. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

“With the amount of greasy foods in your diet, I needn’t try too hard,” he teases, holding out a styrofoam cup towards her. Emma frowns at him and refuses to take it. “I’m sorry, Swan, truly. I saw the bug and realized it was you. You were so focused on that apartment building, however, that you didn’t notice me. I got you a hot cocoa, though.”

 

He holds it out again, closer to her face so she can smell the chocolate inside. Emma takes it from him but pouts, turning her attention back to the aforementioned building.

 

“Who’s your guy?” Killian asks, nodding towards the building when the silence becomes too much. Emma tightens her grip on the cup, allowing the heat within to warm her fingers. She might not actually be able to wait out here all night. Maybe she’ll bribe the doorman into texting her when her guy leaves.

 

“Some white collar embezzler currently screwing his soon to be second ex-wife out of whatever money she actually has,” Emma tells him, not taking her eyes off the front door. Killian makes a kind of annoyed grunt.

 

“Rich people,” he comments gruffly and Emma nods in agreement. They lapse back into silence and Emma sips at the hot cocoa. She offers it to Killian who takes a small drink from it before handing it back.

 

“So,” he starts, too forced to be casual. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

 

Emma freezes, the cup halfway to her lips.

 

“What?”

 

“Come on, love, I’m quite perceptive,” he continues. “You’ve been avoiding me and I just can’t figure out why. I mean, we’ve discussed that we’re friends outside of our activities so, if you didn’t want to have sex anymore, you could have just-”

 

“It’s not that,” Emma interrupts, glancing over at him. He looks stricken by the response. Emma wonders briefly what kind of terrible things he’s been imagining. She wants to assuage his fears but she’s not sure she can. “Look, can we not do this right now?”

 

Killian gives a frustrated sigh.

 

“When are we supposed to do it, Emma?” He asks. “It’s not like I can show up at your apartment, seeing as I don’t know where it is. And you’ve been dodging my texts. I’m trying to give you space but I’m at a loss here.”

 

Emma sighs. She knows she owes him an explanation but she’s not sure he’ll be satisfied with the one he gets.

 

“Did you drive here?” She asks and Killian shakes his head no. “I’m gonna go see what it costs to bribe the doorman, alright? And then we’ll talk.”

 

Killian nods silently and Emma slides her hot cocoa into the cup holder. She steps out of the car, the chill outside rivaling the one in her car, and jogs over to the front door. It takes more than she’s entirely happy with but the doorman agrees to send her a message when her guy leaves. She supposes as long as surveillance shows him turning her away, he doesn’t think he has to worry about his job.

 

Emma would hate shady people more if they didn’t make her job so easy.

 

“Where are we going?” Killian asks when she gets back in the car. He sounds weary and she wonders briefly if she did that. The whole point of this was for no one to get hurt, she hates that she’s putting Killian through her issues.

 

“I don’t live far,” she tells him. “I have heat and whiskey.”

 

Killian nods and Emma pulls onto the road and turns her car towards her apartment.

 

-/-

 

To Killian’s credit, despite his frustration, he waits patiently as Emma let’s them into her apartment and rushes around tidying up a bit. She’s not particularly messy but compared to Killian anyone is messy. He sort of hangs around hesitantly by her front door before taking a seat at her kitchen table. Emma pours the rest of her hot cocoa into a mug and pulls the bottle of cheap whiskey out of her cabinet. Looking between the two, she gives in and a pours a shot worth into the hot cocoa before pulling down a glass for Killian.

 

She slides it across her kitchen table  to him and takes a seat on the other side. They drink in silence for a bit.

 

“Emma,” Killian says softly after a while and Emma meets his eye warily. “What’s going on? We’re friends first, right? You can tell me.”

 

Emma huffs out a breath and sets her glass down a little harder than necessary.

 

“Ruby thinks we’re in a relationship,” she admits in a rush. Killian raises an eyebrow.

 

“Alright,” he starts slowly, clearly not grasping the issue. “Did you just tell her we’re not?”

 

“No, I hadn’t thought of that,” Emma bites, rolling her eyes. “She thinks we’re in a relationship but we’re both denying that we’re in a relationship. Which, I realize, is crazy but she got all in my head about _feelings_ and you and I got worried that-”

 

She hesitates, chewing her lip and looking back down at her glass.

 

“Worried that I had gotten the wrong impression?” Killian prompts. “Because, I assure you, Swan, you’ve been nothing but clear about what this is.”

 

“Okay. And you’re not,” Emma works for a casual tone, tries to make her question sound ridiculous. “You’re not in love with me, are you?”

 

Killian seems taken aback by the question and Emma feels ridiculous having asked in the first place. She chuckles and shakes her head at herself.

 

“You know what? Forget it. I just let Ruby get in my head,” she says, offering a shaky smile. “She’s ridiculous, I’m sorry.”

 

Killian swirls the dark liquid around his glass and nods.

 

“It’s quite alright, love,” he tells her before lifting the glass and tipping it back. Emma watches him for a moment, unsure if either of them feel better or not. At the least, she figures she should stop avoiding him.

 

Her phone buzzes against the wood of her table and Emma glances down at it, sighing.

 

“It’s the doorman,” she explains. “My jumper just left the apartment.”

 

Killian nods and they both stand from the table. Emma tugs her leather jacket back on while Killian places the glasses she had planned to leave for later in the sink. She rolls her eyes fondly at the gesture.

 

“I’d say you could stick around and wait but there’s no telling when I’ll be back,” she shrugs at him as they head for the door.

 

“As much as I would like to stay, I couldn’t have anyway I’m afraid,” he says. “Early morning tomorrow and all.”

 

Right, tomorrow is Wednesday. Emma nods at him and tugs open the door to her apartment, flipping off the light switch next to it. His earlier words come back to her suddenly and Emma stalls, causing Killian to do the same. They’re friends first.

 

“Swan?” He questions, raising an eyebrow at her sudden stop.

 

“Do you want to come to dinner at my friend’s place tomorrow?” She asks. “It’s just this dinner we do with our friends every week and I figured, well, _we’re_ friends and you’ve met most of them already so, uh, do you?”

 

Killian blinks at her before chuckling.

 

“You’re inviting me to a gathering with your friends like you’ve suggested selling my soul to Hades himself,” he smirks. Emma gives a huff and continues down the hall towards the building stairs.

 

“Well, if you don’t want to go,” she starts.

 

“I didn’t say that,” Killian counters, following close behind her. “I’m honored you’d ask and of course I’d like to go.”

 

“Okay,” Emma says with a nod to herself.

 

“Okay,” Killian echoes with a smile. He shakes his head at her, holding the door to the stairwell open for her and following her down the stairs. At the front door, she freezes again, turning to Killian in dawning realization.

 

“I drove you here,” she points out and Killian laughs.

 

“No worries, Swan, I’m quite adept at public transportation,” he grins. “Now, go before you lose your embezzler.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Emma salutes with a smirk. “I’ll text you the details about tomorrow.”

 

Killian nods before ducking down to dust his lips over the apple of her cheek lightly. He turns and exits her apartment building and Emma heads towards her Bug.

 

-/-

 

The original plan is for Emma to pick Killian up on the way to Mary Margaret and David’s. He texts her about a half an hour before she needs to leave that he’s gonna be stuck at work. She figures it’s the perfect chance for her to give him an out, Emma’s not even sure why she would ask him to spend a night around her friends, so she says it’s okay if he has to cancel.

 

 _I wouldn’t dare, Swan,_ he texts her, impeccable grammar and all. Of course. _Send me the address, I may be a bit late_.

 

Emma does so and actually thanks the universe for being kind to her for once. Picking him up had been her idea but arriving before him works even better. She had texted Mary Margaret once she’d dropped off the embezzler at the police station to warn her of the extra guest for the evening. Now, she was thinking it was probably a better idea to get there early and field all their questions, assumptions, and possible judgements without Killian.

 

Which is a good plan because before she even has her jacket off Mary Margaret is grilling her. Emma notices she’s beaten Ruby and Belle this time and curses her timing. In her rush to be at the loft before Killian she’d gotten here early.

 

“Okay, you got out of having to explain because it was late last night,” Mary Margaret says as Emma hangs her jacket from the coat rack. “Now you have to tell me; What is going on?”

 

“You mean besides weekly dinner?” Emma asks, projecting confusion into her tone. It only earns her an unamused look from her friend. Groaning, Emma tugs her gloves off her hands and stuffs them into the pockets of her coat. To Mary Margaret’s credit, she waits patiently for Emma to finish.

 

“Like you said, Killian and I are _friends_ ,” Emma shrugs, straightening out her white thermal. “So, I invited him to friend dinner.”

 

Mary Margaret blinks.

 

“Emma, I said that over a month ago.”

 

Emma sighs.

 

“Look, the point is he’s coming,” she says, stepping around Mary Margaret further into the apartment where David is chopping vegetables. “So, can you both just agree to be nice to him?”

 

She mostly addresses the question towards David who gives her a charming grin.

 

“I’m always nice,” he insists, turning from the island to the stove. He scrapes the chopped peppers off the cutting board and into a pan that sizzles at the addition. When he turns back, Emma gives him a look. “Alright, alright, I’ll be nice.”

 

“I don’t mean passive aggressive ‘I’m-being-nice-because-I-was-told-to’ nice either, okay?” Emma pushes, looking between the two. “I don’t know what dark past Robin has hinted towards but seriously no grilling him.”

 

“Emma, come on,” Mary Margaret sighs. “You’re acting like we’re Killian’s firing squad.”

 

Emma frowns. She spots the open bottle of wine on the counter and doesn’t ask before pouring herself a glass. It’d be nice to believe she’s overreacting but she _knows_ her friends. And, while she loves them for it sometimes, they can be extremely overprotective. It’s not just her, of course, they’d reacted like this to every person Ruby dated before meeting Belle.

 

Except Emma isn’t dating Killian. She just wants him to feel welcome around her friends.

 

The door to the loft opens again and Ruby and Belle come through, already removing their coats. Emma barely notices. She takes a seat at the currently empty kitchen table and sighs.

 

“I just don’t want anyone to think this is any more than what it is.”

 

Ruby groans on the other side of the room, pulling Emma’s attention. Belle is hiding a smirk behind her bright green peacoat as she hangs it on the rack. Emma glares at both of them.

 

“We all get it,” Ruby huffs. “You’re not dating Killian. Talk about beating a dead horse. If you’re gonna be this strung up all night I’m gonna need alcohol.”

 

Ruby heads for the counter to pour her own glass of wine but Belle’s laugh comes from behind Emma. She feels Belle’s hand settle on the back of her chair.

 

“Come on, guys,” she says gently. “Emma’s clearly a little nervous, let’s cut her some slack.”

 

Being nervous isn’t exactly something Emma wants to admit to but she’s glad to have someone in her, and by proxy Killian’s, corner, regardless. She turns and beams up at Belle.

 

“I love you, Belle, have I told you that lately?”

 

“Back off, Swan, she’s mine,” Ruby grunts playfully, dropping into the seat next to Emma. Belle rolls her eyes and joins David and Mary Margaret to see if she can help at all. Ruby turns in her chair so she’s facing Emma.

 

“Seriously, Emma,” Ruby says quietly. “Everyone else is just excited you’re letting them get to know Killian. They’re gonna be on their best behavior, trust me.”

 

Emma chews on the inside of her lip but nods at Ruby. Her friends love her, of course they’ll cut Killian some slack. The thought isn’t stopping her stomach from tying itself in knots.

 

Killian knocks on the door a half an hour later and Emma has to battle a huffy Mary Margaret away from the door. She hears her mutter something about _my house_ to a chuckling David but ignores it, pulling the door open. Killian looks like a windswept god on the other side and Emma falters for a moment.

 

“Jesus, Killian, did you get in a fight with a wind monster?” She asks, stepping back to beckon him inside. His cheeks are red from the chill and he’s got a large scarf wrapped around his neck. He chuckles, ducking his head.

 

“If you think the sea breeze is bad inland, you should feel it at the waterfront,” he explains and Emma nods. He shifts something from his right hand to trap it between his left arm and his body and removes the scarf. Emma looks down to realize he’s brought a bottle of wine. Emma reaches out and takes it and the scarf from him so he can remove his coat.

 

“Terribly sorry I’m late,” he says once he’s removed the layers and entered fully into the loft. He takes the bottle of wine back from Emma. “But I come bearing gifts.”

 

David steps forward and takes it from him with a tight smile. He takes it back to the kitchen and sets it on the island with the other bottle.

 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Killian,” Mary Margaret says, enough hospitality for both her and her husband who Emma shoots a look. David won’t look at her.

 

“I believe in host gifts,” Killian says easily. “Good form.”

 

Mary Margaret offers him a surprised smile. Emma takes a deep breath, things already going monumentally better than all of her worst case scenarios.

 

“Right, well,” she says, stepping further into the kitchen where everyone is still congregated. “You know Mary Margaret, David, and Ruby. And this is Ruby’s girlfriend, Belle.”

 

Killian offers a smile, holding out his right hand for Belle to shake. He tucks his left arm behind him a bit. The movement is subtle but Emma’s eye draws to it.

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Belle,” he says as she takes his hand. “All good things, of course.”

 

“Ditto,” Belle smiles.

 

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Mary Margaret announces, clapping her hands together. “Killian, grab yourself a drink and we’ll eat in about five minutes.”

 

Emma guides Killian to where the glasses are and he pours himself a glass of wine. After he sets the bottle down, he leans into her a bit.

 

“You alright, Swan?” He asks. “You still breathing?”

 

“What?” She smirks. “You think the sight of you all windswept is enough to stop my breathing?”

 

Killian raises an eyebrow at the descriptor, smirking a bit, but shakes his head.

 

“As much as my ego would like to believe that, I’m asking because you look ready to bolt for the door at any second,” he points out. Emma stares at him, surprised she’s that transparent. “You’re something of an openbook, love.”

 

She sighs.

 

“My friends can be somewhat overbearing,” she admits. “I just don’t want them to make you feel unwelcome.”

 

“Are you referring to your friend David not liking me?” He asks and, at Emma’s raised eyebrow, continues. “He’s not subtle. But never fear, Swan, I intend to win him over tonight with my irresistible charm.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma snorts. “You might want to come up with a back up plan.”

 

Killian winks at her before pushing away from the counter and heading for the kitchen table. Emma follows behind him as he calls out to Ruby, asking about the clinic and Granny. Actually, Emma considers, she may be underestimating him.

 

Dinner goes well. Actually, even for as much of a pessimist as Emma is, dinner goes amazingly. Not only had Killian been charming and completely disarming - even holding a few non-hostile conversations with David - but Emma had learned things about him even she didn’t know. Things like the city in Ireland where he was born, that he moved to England at nineteen which was how he’d met Robin, before moving to America at twenty-four. Emma even learned some various things about what it actually is a harbormaster does.

 

“That was actually,” Emma starts with a smirk, “not disastrous.”

 

Killian gives a chuckle but it’s off. He’d offered to walk her to where she’d parked her car down the street but had otherwise been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d left the apartment. Emma studies him for a minute. He’s got his head down, half of his face disappearing behind his thick coat collar and scarf.

 

“So, uh,” she says, leaning back against her Bug. “You wanna come back to my place for a bit? I know you have to work tomorrow but it’s still early so…”

 

Killian looks up finally, studying her with soft eyes. Emma frowns at him.

 

“Uh, not tonight, Swan,” he says gently and Emma nods, more confused by his sudden reservedness than by his refusal. She counters it with a little bit of overt enthusiasm.

 

“Okay, how about Friday? The new season of Deadliest Catch just started, you can lecture me on the,” she affects a poor impression of his accent, “treacherous ways of the sea.”

 

It earns her a small smile and Emma counts it as a win.

 

“Perhaps,” he nods. “I’ll text you.”

 

Emma nods in agreement and Killian turns to walk to his own car. She frowns after him for a moment before climbing into her car.

 

-/-

 

Emma tries not to stew on it too much. Dinner had been so good and Killian was probably just tired. She knew how early he’d had to get up and getting stuck at the docks so late couldn’t have helped. Something about his reserved mood once they’d left the apartment sticks with her though. It was more than tired.

 

She spends Thursday running the errands she’d been putting off. She passes by her favorite chinese food place and sends Killian a text, asking if he wants her to pick it up on Friday. When he doesn’t respond, Emma reminds herself that he’s working and puts it out of her mind. Grocery shopping manages to help her with that task when her stomach starts grumbling and she has to focus on ignoring whims and only buying what she needs.

 

The last thing she’d expected to come home to was a distraught looking Killian pacing in front of her door.

 

“Killian?” She calls down the hallways when she spots him. “What are you doing here?”

 

He stops pacing at the sound of her voice and turns to her. He’s fiddling with his prosthetic and won’t meet her gaze.

 

“Apologies, Swan,” he replies when she’s reached him. “I should have called.”

 

“It’s fine,” Emma responds, unlocking her door. His nervous presence has her shaken as she leads him into the apartment. “How long were you out there? Is everything okay?”

 

“Not long,” Killian insists, shaking his head. Emma places the groceries on the table and turns to him. “I needed to speak with you, though.”

 

“Killian,” she says, steadying his hands with her own. “You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

 

Killian heaves a sigh and motions towards the couch, “Perhaps we should...”

 

Emma takes his hand and leads him there. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy, his hand coming up to scratch behind his ear and his leg bouncing. He’s managed to create a solid foot of space between them and there are alarm bells ringing in Emma’s head but she waits him out.

 

“You asked me a question the other day and, though you didn’t let me answer it, I thought I knew the answer,” he tells her, only serving to confuse her more.

 

“A question,” Emma repeats slowly, trying to remember every conversation they’d had in the last three days. It hits her like a bucket of ice water. _You aren’t in love with me, are you?_ She breathes his name out, mentally begging him to stop before he can’t take it back. Killian continues on anyway.

 

“I didn’t think I’d be able to fall in love again,” he explains, “and when you suggested it I thought it was impossible. When I lost my first love, my world shifted. I never imagined I could meet someone who I could feel the same way for.”

 

He lets out a sudden chuckle of disbelief.

 

“But you, Emma Swan, you hit me like a freight train,” he smiles. It’s a sad smile but there’s some sort of awe in it that makes Emma’s chest ache. “And after spending the night with you and your friends, getting to have a glimpse into what being a real part of your life might be like, I realized. I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

 

“Killian,” she breathes, a traitorous tear slipping down her cheek. “Please.”

 

“I realize, of course,” he goes on, reaching forward to brush the tear away with his knuckles, “That telling you this means losing you. But you were always very clear on the rules of our engagements and it seemed unfair to keep such an important development from you.”

 

Killian stares at her for a minute, bright blue eyes scanning hers. Eventually he reaches over, squeezing her hand and letting out a quiet sigh. Letting go of her, he stands from the couch and Emma can’t bring herself to look at him.

 

“Your friendship has meant the world to me and I recognize that you’ll need space but, afterwards, if you want to continue spending time together - platonically, of course - I’d quite enjoy that.” He turns to leave, stopping only once he’s reached the door, “I’m so sorry, Emma.”

 

The door clicks shut behind him and Emma curls up on her couch and cries.

 

-/-

 

There’s something to be said for the world’s unstoppable ability to continue spinning in the face of anything. Emma’s world feels like it comes crashing down around her but when she picks herself up off the couch there are still groceries to be put away. There’s laundry that needs to be switched, an e-mail with a new wanted ad for some bail jumper.

 

Killian shakes her world but Emma doesn’t have the option to stop living it.

 

Objectively, Emma has lived through worse. It’s always made her stronger, smarter. Yet, just when she thought she could withstand any storm a hurricane blows through. It’s not that Killian loves her, even if there’s a small, angry voice in the back of her head calling her a traitor, it’s that she’s going to lose him because of it. They’d just started reaching a more evolved place of their friendship and now she’s going to lose him.

 

Because that’s how it goes. People leave. Inevitably, no matter how much they think they love her or how much Emma wants to believe it, she isn’t enough to stick around for. Everyone that’s ever loved her has left. No matter how much she wants to believe that this time, _this time_ it’ll be different, it never is.

 

So, she puts away her groceries, takes her laptop and her laundry down to the first floor, and keeps going. This is what she’s built for, withstanding hurricanes.

 

Despite all that, lack of sleep and post-skip-catching adrenaline has Emma knocking on his door at 11 PM almost a week after he’d shown up at hers. Killian opens the door half awake and shirtless, coming into alertness when he finds her glaring at him on the other side.

 

“Swan?” He mumbles, confused. Emma would be endeared if she weren’t on a mission. “What are you doing here?”

 

She storms past him into the apartment. Aware of herself enough to know she probably shouldn’t wake his neighbors. She’s gotten enough judgemental looks from the redhead down the hall to last her a lifetime.

 

“How could you do that?” She says, once she’s inside. She hears Killian push the apartment door closed behind her. “Here I was, desperately trying to make sure nothing was going to change between us because of my friends’ crazy notions and then you go and do _that_.”

 

“And, by that, you mean realize I was in love with you?” He asks, running his hand through his hair. He’s not awake enough yet to be frustrated but Emma can tell it’s coming. “Sorry, Swan, but I wasn’t exactly planning on having that epiphany myself, you know?”

 

“Things were _good_ ,” She continues. “It was fun and nice and I liked you!”

 

“Interesting use of the past tense,” he grumbles, flopping dramatically onto the couch, one arm covering his eyes. It’s nice to know sleep doesn’t dull his personality at all.

 

“You know what I mean,” Emma groans. “Friends are simple. They don’t require a lot of work to keep around and when they get bored of you they just stop texting you for a week, they don’t have to break up with you.”

 

“You’ve lost me, love.”

 

Emma sighs and pushes his feet off the couch so she can sit as well. Killian grumbles something and adjusts his prone form so his body isn’t hanging halfway off the couch.

 

“I like being friends,” Emma explains. “We’d just started that whole thing and relationships are messy and hard. And, eventually, they all end. I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Killian sits up, looking over at her.

 

“Emma, you don’t have to lose me,” he offers gently. “We can still be friends. It’s more than I’d hoped for.”

 

Emma lets out a huff and slouches back on the couch. She can feel Killian’s eyes on her, can tell he’s much more alert now than he was when she’d shown up.

 

“Why couldn’t you have just been satisfied with getting all this on the regular?” She asks playfully, motioning down her body. Killian chuckles at her, sitting up more and adjusting their positions so he’s closer to her.

 

“You’re right, love,” he nods. “It’s clear in the friends with benefits contract, of course. It’s just poor form on my part.”

 

Emma smiles despite herself but lets out a heavy sigh, pressing herself further into the couch. She feels Killian hesitantly reach out for her before settling his hand over hers.

 

“Sorry I woke you up,” she says quietly.

 

“Quite alright,” he responds, just as quietly. “I missed you this past week. Even an angry Emma visit is nice.”

 

Emma shoves him and he smirks in response before sobering up. He scans her face and Emma resists the temptation to shy away from his searching.

 

“Are you alright, love?” Killian asks finally. Emma contemplates the question for a moment, curling into him a little. He welcomes the shift, wrapping his arm around her. She really thought she would be okay by now. Killian hasn’t been in her life that long but she’d allowed him to become so ingrained in it, in her happiness. She hadn’t realized how much the potential of losing him would hurt.

 

“You were right,” she says eventually, “I do need a little time. Just to adjust, but I don’t want to stop hanging out with you. I missed you, too.”

 

Killian’s hold on her tightens fractionally but the tightness in Emma’s chest loosens a little with the movement. She presses her nose into his collarbone and breathes him in, comforted by his steady breathing.

 

“I understand,” he murmurs against her hair. “I need to adjust, as well.”

 

Emma nods. She relishes in his comfort a moment longer before pushing away. Killian releases her when he feels the resistance and watches as she stands up from the couch.

 

“I should go,” Emma says and he nods. “You wanna hang out this weekend? Finally have that Deadliest Catch marathon?”

 

A grin lights up Killian’s face, a little sad and soft, but it reaches his eyes and Emma sees her own hope reflected back at her. Her mind resists the thought but it comes through unbidden, anyway. Maybe Killian could be different.

 

“Right,” Emma says, once she realizes she’s been sort of staring. “I’m gonna go. We’ll talk, though. Soon.”

 

Killian nods and Emma turns, leaving the apartment in less of a state than she’d entered it in.

 

-/-

 

Ruby slides a mug of hot cocoa in front of Emma. It’s got an extra tall dollop of whipped cream spilling over the rim and Emma immediately skims a spoonful off the top. It’s late and close to closing so the diner is empty except for Emma and a straggler in the back. Ruby places her elbows on the counter and leans forward so she’s eye level with Emma.

 

“Okay, that is your third mug,” she points out, looking Emma dead in the eye. “You’ve been sitting in here for over an hour just sipping cocoa and looking like a troubled film noir protagonist. What’s going on?”

 

“Film noir protagonist?” Emma questions, scooping up more whipped cream with her spoon. “That’s your go-to?”

 

“Emma,” Ruby says warningly. Emma gives a heavy sigh, just to make sure Ruby’s aware she’s only having this conversation under duress.

 

“When you realized you had feelings for Belle,” she starts slowly. “How did you know that telling her wouldn’t ruin your friendship?”

 

Ruby raises an eyebrow.

 

“Where is that question coming from?” She asks and Emma shrugs, staring down at her drink as the topping melts into it. “Well, I mean, I didn’t. I couldn’t know for sure. I just hoped that she felt the same way and, at the very least, if she didn’t not carrying the burden of those feelings around in secret would help me.”

 

“What if you had known?” Emma asks, earning a confused look from her friend. “What if you had known she’d felt the same way? But also known that it would most likely still end in things not working out and losing her anyway?”

 

Ruby sighs and gives Emma a look like she’s finally figured out what’s going on. She rounds the counter to take a seat on the stool next to Emma’s.

 

“Emma, hun, that’s the gamble,” she says, her hand coming to rest atop Emma’s gently. “No one knows for sure what will happen. It’s just finding someone you like and having a little faith.”

 

“I’m not so good at faith,” Emma sighs. Ruby offers her a soft, knowing look.

 

“Maybe Killian has enough for the both of you,” she suggests with a shrug. “At least, for now.”

 

Emma frowns down at her drink, hunching her shoulders a bit. Ruby leans into her, dropping her head onto Emma’s shoulder and squeezing her hand. Emma let’s herself lean into Ruby a little as well, takes comfort in Ruby’s concern and affection.

 

“I can’t promise you things are gonna work out,” Ruby continues quietly. “But you can’t run away from everyone who cares about you out of the fear that it might not. You deserve happiness, Emma, and if Killian Jones can contribute even a little bit to that happiness, well, then I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you?”

 

Emma lets her words sink in as Ruby pulls away when the guy in the back booth calls for her attention. She pats Emma gently on the shoulder as she passes behind her. When she comes back, Emma is tugging on her jacket and taking a last drink from her cocoa. She pulls a ten out of her pocket and drops it on the counter.

 

“Where are you going?” Ruby asks.

 

“I have a lot to think about,” Emma tells her, offering a smile. She still doesn’t know exactly what she’s feeling but she feels lighter than she has in a few days. “Thanks for talking to me, Ruby.”

 

“Anytime, Emma,” Ruby grins knowingly, waving at her as Emma pushes her way out of the diner.

 

-/-

 

Killian comes over on Saturday with takeout lasagna and a whole slew of new sea metaphors Emma refuses to believe he isn’t just making up on the spot. He grins every time he gets a groan out of her as they watch Deadliest Catch. By the third episode, their food is gone and Emma isn’t really watching the TV at all anymore.

 

She’s too busy watching Killian, who is absolutely enraptured by the perilous lives of the fishermen on screen, and thinking about her conversation with Ruby. It’s been a few days and Emma has had the chance to think about it but she doesn’t feel any more resolved about it than she had. Killian is one of her closest friends and he loves her. If you ask any hallmark movie writer ever, it should be just that simple.

 

Except it’s never been that easy for Emma.

 

As much as her heart wants to believe that it could be different, that _Killian_ could be different, her brain is steadfast in reminding her that she thinks that every time. Ruby had mentioned faith but Emma just doesn’t know if she can allow herself that luxury. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Killian, or believe his feelings are real, she certainly _wants_ to. She just doesn’t know if she’s capable of recovering again if she’s wrong.

 

Killian leans forward suddenly, startling Emma out of her daze, and pauses the TV.

 

“Darling, if you stare any harder you’re going to burn the handsome right off of me,” he says, turning towards her with a concerned frown. “What’s wrong?”

 

Emma opens her mouth, tries to formulate a response. Eventually, she gives up. Instead, she leans forward, capturing his mouth under hers. Killian responds enthusiastically. It’s been weeks since they’ve done this and it’s escalating before Emma even realizes. Suddenly she’s on Killian’s lap, pulling back from him with her palms flat against his chest, panting. Underneath her, Killian isn’t fairing much better as his chest moves with his increased breathing.

 

“I’m not good at this,” she says, closing her eyes at Killian’s confused look. “I’ve never been good at relying on faith and I usually end up getting burned in the end. I want to believe this could work, that I won’t lose you, but I just, I’m not sure I can.”

 

She feels Killian’s hand brush her hair away from her face, come back down to cup her jaw.

 

“Every time I try,” Emma continues, opening her eyes to find him watching her intently. “I get let down.”

 

“Emma, I can’t promise you anything other than what I know right now,” he responds, his thumb brushing against her chin lightly. “Which is how I feel and that it doesn’t seem to be waning. And that, despite both of our past mistakes, I have no intention of letting you down.”

 

The words are easy to say, there’s conviction behind them but words can only account for so much. What hits Emma suddenly and sharply is that she believes him. Not that she _wants_ to believe but that he’s looking at her so earnestly and touching her so gently that she just - _she believes him_.

 

“Well, if you’re willing to be patient with me,” she begins, looking down at her hands planted firmly on his black sweater, trying not to smile too brightly. “I’m willing to give you a chance to prove that.”

 

Killian’s face lightens as he stares up at her, eyes twinkling with unbidden mirth. Emma can’t contain her smile anymore at the sight. She ducks down to peck him lightly on the lips before he can respond.

 

“Emma Swan,” he breathes when she presses her forehead to his. “I have all the time in the world.”


End file.
